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‘We can’t speak on behalf of the rest of the committee,’ Mark added, ‘but we’ll be recommending they join us in voting to reject your application.’
‘But you haven’t seen our plans,’ James argued.
‘I can’t see how that would make any difference,’ Sarah said. ‘If the principal stakeholders can’t even be civil to one another or respect their staff, then what hope do you have of pulling off a three-day event?’
The councillors turned and left the office.
‘Wait up,’ James said, running after them and closing the door behind him.
Estelle stumbled to the chaise longue and sank her head into her hands, her nervous system whining in her ears like a swarm of mosquitos. She’d spent the last decade trying to save Foxbrooke Manor from her father’s crazy schemes, and now her own idea was going to sink the estate in one fell swoop because she’d lost her temper at the worst possible time.
Her phone buzzed from her back pocket and she pulled it out.
Henry.
‘I’ve fucked up!’ she stammered as she accepted the call. ‘Henry, I’ve totally fucked everything up.’
‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’
Adrenaline was making her body shake as if she was sitting in an ice bath. ‘I screamed at James in front of two of the councillors from the licensing committee and now they won’t back our application. The festival’s over.’
‘What about the other committee members? When’s the vote? Can you appeal?’
‘It won’t work, Henry. They all hate Dad. They shoot down in flames almost everything he tries to do. I hoped it would be different because the festival is me, not him, but I lost the plot in front of them. It’s all my fault.’
‘It can’t be. What about James?’
‘I started it, Henry. It doesn’t matter what he said. I’m the one who kicked off.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘God, Henry. All these years I bad-mouthed Dad, and now we could lose the estate because of me.’
‘We won’t. I promise—’
‘I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’
‘Hey! It’s all going to be okay. Come home and we can talk to Dad, try and brainstorm a way forward.’
‘I can’t. The Defender’s at the garage.’
‘I’ll come and pick you up. I need to have words with Hunter-Savage, anyway.’
‘Jesus! No, Henry, it’ll just make everything worse!’
‘Estelle. You tried to make it work, and it hasn’t. He needs to hand the money over and walk away.’
She went to the door and peeked into the corridor.
Empty.
‘Look, you know I don’t like to admit I was wrong,’ she said into the phone. ‘But this morning’s cock up is sixty per cent on me.’
Going down the corridor, an engine roared outside. Looking through a window onto the drive, she saw James’s car accelerate away, the back wheels spinning on the gravel.
‘He’s just left, anyway.’
‘James?’
‘Yeah.’ Estelle ran a hand into her hair, tugging on the roots as if it would help ease her headache. ‘I’m going to walk through the fields back to the livery and spend the rest of the day shovelling shit. I think it’s an apt metaphor for how much crap I’ve landed us in.’
‘Please, come for dinner tonight? We can talk it through then.’
